Hiryonin Ichimei
by Sutoomu
Summary: Prince Heero and his adopted brother Trowa have been sent to buy personal slaves at King Treize's request. Neither of them want a personal slave, but they buy two and lives change.
1. The Slave House

This is the third fanfiction I have posted. I hope it is written good and that it isn't cheesy. Please review and I will update sooner. Policy-You review me, I'll review you! I hope you enjoy Hiryonin Ichimei (I really hope I did that right. It's supposed to mean slave life. If I did it wrong, please e-mail me and correct me so I can fix it, thanks.)

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm) so NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun, and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

By Storm

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Heero pulled his gauntlets on a bit tighter and repressed a sigh. He brushed back some messy chocolate brown bangs from his cold blue eyes and stared out the small slit of light that came through the deep blue silk hangings. He again questioned in his mind why they had to use the royal carriage, even though he knew the answer. They were supposed to be making an entrance. The finest slaves would be brought out upon sight of the blue carriage with the royal banners and insignia. They would have the slave floor to themselves.

He looked over at Trowa, his best friend and adopted brother. Heero was the son of King Trieze Kushrenada and Queen Midii Une. When his mother had died when he was six, Trieze had brought Trowa in from the traveling entertainers. He had been brought as a playmate for Heero and an entertainer boy to brighten him up. Later, Heero had asked his father if they could adopt Trowa Barton, the circus boy. Trieze had agreed, and Trowa as well when Heero told him, for they had become best friends. The boys had been best friends for eleven years now, and adopted brothers for ten, and they were fiercely loyal and protective of each other.

Trowa looked over at him, his deep green eyes, which reminded Heero of the leaves at springtime, sparking in both nervousness and agitation, one half hidden by the brown bangs that fell over the side of his face. Heero consoled with his friend. While he had been to the slave floor three times so far with Heero, he had never had to pick out his own slave, and a personal one at that. Heero felt slightly unsure as well. He would rather have waited a few more years before getting a personal slave, but Trieze had insisted that both he and Trowa were a year overdue for one. Trieze himself had gotten a personal slave three years ago, and he claimed his boys needed to have one too. So he had sent them off to the slave floor in the royal best.

"Heero?"

"Yes, Trowa?" Heero replied.

"I do not want a slave," Trowa said softly, looking away as though ashamed, though one could never tell, as Trowa was an expert at hiding his emotions with a stoic face.

"Truly, neither do I," Heero answered. "But, if Trieze requests it, we have to." Calling his father Trieze was normal for Heero, and Trieze accepted it. It was tradition for the past Kings to change their children's last names, which was why Heero was Heero Yuy instead of Heero Kushrenada or Une, and for royal children to address their parents by their first name when they turned ten. It helped individuality.

"Requests? Orders, you mean. Trieze never requests." There was no anger in Trowa's voice, only fact.

"It's part of being a King," Heero openly sighed now, knowing he would one day have the burden. Not for a long time, at least. "Actually, my interest is piqued a little. Trieze has always seemed much brighter when Zechs is around."

Trowa didn't reply for a moment, then finally spoke. "Yes, I agree. Zechs…is pleasant to be around. He treats you like a human being, not a hideous monster to be cowered under like the other slaves. Zechs and Wufei. I don't think I was meant to have slaves."

"But you do and you will, Trowa," Heero pointed out. "It's a require..." He cut off as they suddenly stopped. "We're here." The pair sent each other a look of support and steeled themselves for what waited them as the door opened. A march through the slave floor.

The slave floor was an extravagant courtyard, with marble floors where the slaves would line up and the buyers would pass by and look at them. There were many other places to buy slaves, like the slave market and the slave auction, but everyone who was anyone knew the slave floor was where the best of the best were. If you were wealthy and wise, you bought at the slave floor.

A man, Master Tiper-Hayne, Heero knew, greeted them as they stepped down. He was the man who did the dealings in the slave floor, the exchanging of money and beings. He was a man who respected the slaves, kept them in good condition while still being able to make them servient. Master Archine met them at the door. Archine was the man who currently owned the slave floor and he, as well, was a very talented slave-master.

"Welcome to the slave floor, your Highnesses," Archine intoned in a deep warm bass as he bowed. Heero stared past him through the doors into the marble courtyard, glimpsing the lines already set as Trowa nodded in response to Archine. Tiper-Hayne led them through the doors and into the entrance, Archine taking a respected place behind them as was expected. They began to walk up the lines of well dressed, clean slaves, their wrists and feet bound in shining silver shackles connected to their neighbour. Most had their heads tilted down in respect of the princes, a few brave glances brushing their faces. When they reached the end of the line, Trowa whispered something in Heero's ear. Heero nodded, and Trowa left the viewing group to the brief surprise of Tiper-Hayne and Archine. Two guardsmen seperated from the main group and followed him at a small distance as he began to browse on his own. Tiper-Hayne and Archine quickly got over their surprise and continued with Heero. Both knew the adopted prince did unusual things at times. Heero secretly praised Trowa for being brave enough to walk out on his own, and repressed another sigh as he started down the second row.

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Thank you for reading! Now, please review! Constructive critisism is welcome, but no flames, please. I hope you enjoy Hiryonin Ichimei. 


	2. A Small, Blonde Aranian

This is the second chapter of Hiryonin Ichimei! Hope you enjoy it. Please review!

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Trowa had wandered down random lines alone for a bit over an hour now. Well, almost alone. He nearly growled in his throat as the guardsmens' boots clicked behind him, anxious to be rid of their shadowy presence. He just passed out of a very back row, everyone's heads bowed. He couldn't understand how anyone managed to choose a slave this way, just by looking at them. Then again, the way slaves were trained nowadays, they rarely had a personality of their own left, all humble and meek and subservient. He scowled inside and stood in an empty spot in the middle. He glanced over at Heero, surrounded, and knew his friend and brother was getting impatient by the look he wore. He turned and headed for the door he knew led to a lounge room, figuring on resting his weary brain and getting out of the warm sun. He pushed open the doors, which were simply sliding ones, a late invention, then let himself grin.

The guardsmen followed behind him, Trowa visible as he went in, then gone as the doors swung open towards them. They rushed in after him, and one knelt down to pick up the golden sash on the floor, the initials T.B. inscribed in scarlet embroidery at the end. He huffed in impatience while the other sighed.

"He's done it again," the one at the door said.

"I really wish he'd stop disapearing like that!" the one holding the sash growled, an older man. "Gets us in trouble until he pops back up and worries everyone." He pocketed the sash and observed the room quickly. "Well, let's start searching." They left through the opposite door to begin their search for Prince Trowa Barton.

Trowa counted five minutes before he let himself drop from his hiding place onto the ground, silently. He smiled again as no one was around and began 'stealthing', as he and Heero had called it when they were younger. 'Stealthing' was sneaking away from the nurses and trying not to get caught. Now, it was simply a case of guardsmen and royal pains. Trowa still 'stealthed' away often, and had to devise the golden sash as a sign he wasn't kidnapped. Heero did it less often, mostly when he was stressed and needed a break or at Trowa's insistence. He, as well, had a sign, his a silver sash with H.Y. written in blue embroidery. Needless to say, they ran the guardsmens' hairs gray with worry on a regular basis.

Trowa slipped silently down the large hall, hoping no one would come. It was incredibly difficult to 'stealth' in royal dress, complete with cumbersome single shoulder cloak. He headed for an area now well known to him, a small sitting room. Whenever Heero had come, Trowa had slipped away to the sitting room to read while he chose slaves. Normally, Trowa would be by Heero's side with such decisions, but slaves were one thing he didn't particularly like, and Heero understood. He reached the room, marked by a naturally red wooden door, and stepped inside.

"Oiy?"

Trowa whirled at the voice and stared in disbelief at two people. He hadn't expected anyone to be in here, it was so remote.

"It's a rich boy," the woman whispered to the man, but not softly enough for Trowa's keen ears to hear.

"Good day, Master," the man said, bowing. Trowa stared at them, something familiar clicking in his brain.

"Koirine?" he asked, looking at the curly red haired woman, whose eyes widened at her name. He turned to the man, who matched the woman in height, curly red hair, and light green eyes. "Koidin?"

"How's he know us?" Koirine whispered once again.

"That's who we are, Master," Koidin replied warily. "Koidin and Koirine, the Terrinaall twins. May we ask who you are, good Master?"

"Trowa Barton."

"Trowa Barton?" Koirine gasped. "No. Not the small circus kid turned prince Trowa Barton?" Trowa nodded.

"Well, I'll be," Koidin grinned. "Last I seen you, you were five years old, flippin' everywhere, and cuddlin' with the lions. Now you're, what, sixteen…?"

"Seventeen," Trowa corrected.

"Seventeen and all grown up and a prince at that!" Koirine finished Koidin's sentence. "You grown nicely. Guess I can't call you circus kid anymore." Her eyes twinkled.

Trowa gave a small smile at hearing that, just a twitch of the corners of his mouth. Koidin and Koirine Terinaall, twin sister and brother and the best hunters in the kingdom, whether it be slaves, or animals like Trowa knew them as. These two were the ones who had supplied the circus with most of their animals, such as the lions, Mist and Dew, Trowa's best animal friends, as well as delivering Zechs to Trieze. He had always liked the two identical twins. They had made him laugh when he was younger and clapped at his routine, even when he messed up. Now, he liked them even more, for them knowing he was an adopted prince, but still acting as they had twelve years ago.

"Why're you at the slave floor, Trowa?" Koidin asked. "King Trieze picking out some more slaves? By the way, how's he doing?"

"Trieze is fine, and he has been very pleased with Zechs," Trowa replied to their delight. "But he's not picking out more slaves. He insists Heero and I get personal slaves now. We'll be here for the entire afternoon."

"You don't sound too pleased with the idea," Koirine said. "Didn't think you would be, though. You're too sweet."

"How about you?" he asked to avoid a blush making it onto his cheeks. "Another slave group for sale?"

"Oh no," Koirine's eyes lit up. "We' ve got something much better. No slave group today."

"We've captured another full blooded wild Aranian," Koidin announced proudly. "A perfectly innocent little thing, he is, too, but mature enough. He looks about fifteen, sixteen. Younger than the other was, for sure."

"We don't know how old he is for sure 'cause he never speaks," Koirine looked sad. It was well known that Koirine and Koidin were very good to their slaves, which is why they produced the best. And Trowa knew Koirine was a downright softy at heart. "He just stares at us with big scared blue eyes, trembling in fear. We don't even know his name."

"If he continues to be this frightened, I don't know how good of a slave he'll make," Koidin reasoned. "Might not get sold. I'm beginning to doubt Tiper-Hayne'll want him. We were just waiting for him in here."

Trowa thought for a moment. A pure blooded Aranian, like Zechs. He knew Aranians were incredibly rare, almost as rare as Draeids. As Koirine and Koidin had spoken, his utter compassion had kicked in. Heero always teased him that he was too much of a softy.

"May I see him?"

Koidin blinked in shock, Koirine staring at him suspiciously for a moment. "Why?"

"It's impossible to find a slave by walking the lines, at least for me," Trowa explained best he could. "I'd like to see the Aranian, in considering buying him. Zechs has improved Trieze greatly over the past years."

"Well, o' course you can see him," Koidin shrugged. "But I doubt you'll want him. Like Koirine said, he's scared silly. It'd be hell to train him." But they stepped out of the sitting room and began to lead Trowa down towards the slave barracks. They reached a normal door and Koidin unlocked it with a heavy key, then swung it open. Trowa looked into the small room, lit only by the sun coming through the window. It was small and plain, and simply contained a small table and bed, upon which a huddled figure lay. Trowa stepped inside first, making it clear he wanted to be alone with him, and Koidin shut the door.

Trowa made his way silently over to the bed. The Aranian boy was huddled, knees up to his chest and head tucked in. He seemed to be shaking, silently crying. Trowa looked at his pale skin and light golden white hair, an Aranian trademark, and gently brushed his shoulder. The boy shot up at the touch and backed into the corner of the small bed, light blue eyes staring very scaredly into deep green ones. He looked at his face, smooth and young and innocent, as Koirine had said, and a wave of sympathy and a feeling of connection washed over him for this scared little wild Aranian. He knelt down, reaching out a hand and wiping his tear stained cheeks gently, which brought confusion into the blue eyes.

Trowa let a kind smile grace his features, a rare occurrence. "Hello, little one. My name is Trowa, and I'd like to take you out of here." He saw hope and confusion and fear flitter in his innocent eyes. Trowa knew he was hooked on the boy as he said it., and he stood up for a moment. "Just wait one second." He stepped outside.

"I'll take him," he said softly.

"Really?" Koidin asked skeptically as Koirine's eyes lit up in joy for the small slave. "You sure? 'Cause he won't speak, you know."

"Completely," Trowa assured him with a nod. "How much?" Koidin told him and he handed over the money. It was quite a large sum, but the slave was an Aranian, so it was expected. Koidin put the money in his satchel and began rummaging for a moment, then brought out a pair of small shackles. Trowa shook his head no and told him they weren't needed, stepping back inside. The Aranian had been staring at the door the entire time he was out there, and he continued to stare at Trowa as he approached once more.

Trowa held out a hand to him, and he stared at it warily. After a moment, he looked up into Trowa's eyes and slowly took his hand, letting himself he helped to his feet. Trowa saw that he was indeed a small youth, shorter and of smaller frame than himself, as he guided him to the door and out it. The boy stared in fear at Koidin and Koirine as he was led past.

Koirine smiled and chuckled as they walked away. "Looks like circus kid's hooked."

"Like a fish," Koidin agreed.

"Lucky little thing," Koirine refered to the Aranian. "He's going to be the best treated slave in the world."

Koidin nodded, then swung an arm around his sister. "Well, our deal is done. No need to hang around here. I'm starved." And they marched out of the slave floor, looking for a good inn for a good meal.

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That's the second chapter! Please review. Constructive critisism is welcome, but no flames, please. Enjoy!

Storm


	3. A Braided Draeid

Third chapter is up. Of course, I have a wholebunch of chapters already written. I just have to post them. This is the third chapter posted in a row. Please review!

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. this fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Heero sighed as he received the news that Trowa had 'stealthed' off along with the evidence of the golden sash from the two guardsmen. Tiper-Hayne took it as a sigh of frustration and advised they take a break for some wine and a midday bite. Heero could have jumped in joy as he heard this, but he contained himself as Archine now took the lead, heading for the doors which led inside. He led Heero down a long corridor, the entire company silent. Heero began to change his thinking, deciding that Trowa had had the right idea all along. He now agreed with him completely. You can't choose a personal slave by walking down a line. He nodded to himself, sure in his decision, then proceeded to 'stealth'. He heard a few guardsmen curse as they found his silver sash, Archine and Tiper-Hayne asking where he was. He didn't care that he worried them. He was tired and agitated and wanted to sleep the rest of the day away, or knock off some steam with his knives. He satisfied himself for finding a dark wooden hallway, obviously a slave hall, and walked down it silently, thinking.

Heero was disturbed from his thinking as a voice reached his ears from somewhere ahead. He looked up, searching for the source. It was a calm, peaceful voice, singing softly. He couldn't understand the words, it was in another language, but it flowed over him, calm and soothing and peaceful. He sought it out, finally coming to a heavy wooden door, the music drifting out the small barred window in it. He looked through, curious, and stared. Through the window he could see the small slave room, with the simple wooden floor, tiny table, and small bed common to slave rooms. The slave floor's slave rooms, of course, were much cleaner and brighter.

Heero's eyes fell upon who was singing, and he stopped, gazing through the small window. The slave singing sat upon the window ledge, one of the odd ones wide enough to fit upon with the bars, staring out. The slave was dark haired instead of fair, as most were at the slave floor, and his hair hung down his back in a long braid, which was unheard of. He sat, his hands holding his knees as he continued to sing, unaware of him. His clear voice trailed off with a last strange word, and he stared out the window in silence for a moment more until turning. He noticed Heero now and gave a start.. Prussian blue eyes met deep cobalt blue, almost violet like. They stared at each other for a moment.

"That was beautiful," Heero whispered. And it was. Heero was not normally one to be moved by music, but this had cut through his tough exterior, to the core of him.

"Thanks," the slave replied softly. "My mother used to sing it to me."

"Oh." They stared at each other for a few more moments, then the slave seemed to shake himself and smirked.

"So, who're you?" he asked cockily, completely changed to a more brusque manner.

Heero continued to stare in wonder at the slave as he replied. "I'm Heero Yuy. You?"

The slave grinned, his eyes flaring with what Heero recognized as downright rebellion. "I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie…Duo Maxwell!"

"Nice to meet you," Heero replied. He liked this slave. Brave and cocky, rebel from his black collar to his black sandals. "You're very talented at singing."

"Oh," he seemed to blush and rubbed the back of his head with a hand. "Yeah, I guess. Got it from my mum." He looked back up. "You here to buy a slave?"

Heero nodded slowly. "At the insistence of my father," he explained.

Duo nodded to himself and clicked his tongue, looking at Heero warily now. "So where's the old fool? Tiper-Hair or whatever his name is."

"Tiper-Hayne," Heero supplied and shrugged. "Probably looking for me. I slipped away. It's too stressful for me sometimes."

"Ah," Duo clicked his tongue again, a sound Heero was beginning to like. "Yeah. Tiper sure can get stressful." He stretched, chuckling, but the wariness was still in his eyes. "So, you a rich kid?"

"I guess," Heero replied.

"You gotta be," Duo affirmed. "As they say, 'if you're wealthy and wise, you buy at the slave floor'." He suddenly spat. "Bullshit to me."

Heero nodded. A rebel, he was. Not one of those pathetic humble creatures called slaves on the floor, waiting for his return right now.

"Why aren't you on the floor?" Heero asked.

Duo shrugged. "Supposedly, I ain't trained enough yet." He smiled mischeiviously. "Which means I ain't lickin' Tiper's boots yet. I ain't lickin' no boots yet." He added the last defiantly.

Heero smirked. He enjoyed this slave. He had spunk, and his eyes were alive and flashing. A sudden thought went through his mind, and he spoke. "May I buy you?"

Duo's eyes widened in surprise, then he chuckled. "You're asking me? Imagine that, a rich boy asking a slave if he can buy him."

"I'm serious," Heero nearly frowned. "May I buy you?"

Duo gaped, startled that Heero was serious about this. He shook his wits back into him and shrugged, scratching his head. "I guess. But you won't want me," he smirked. "I already been sent back three times. I wasn't humble enough."

"So I can buy you?" Heero asked again.

Duo looked at him, his smirk fading. "Sure, why not? Go ahead and buy me, rich boy. I need a change of scenery. Some good food for once, maybe."

Heero nodded. "Thank you, Duo." And he turned and walked away, leaving a very confused braided slave behind.

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That is the third chapter! WOOT! I'm getting excited, heheh. Please review. Constructive critisism is welcome, but no flames, please. Enjoy!

Storm


	4. Getting Settled In A Palace

Fourth chapter of Hiryonin Ichimei. Please review!

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Heero expertly weaved his way out of the slave halls and located Tiper-Hayne and Archine, who looked at him with concerned expressions, asking if he was alright. He shrugged them off and got straight to the point. 

"I just met a slave while I was wandering. I want to buy him. His name is Duo Maxwell."

Both stared at him for a moment until Tiper-Hayne spoke. "Duo Maxwell? The Draeid? You want to buy him?" he asked in shock.

A Draeid. That explained things. Draeids were extremely rare, because of the near impossibility of locating them. If you found one, they were as easy as Aranians to catch, but hell to train. Draeids had life in them that was impossible to extinguish, no matter how many beatings or tricks you used. The last Draeid found had been nearly twenty four years ago, and it had ended up killing three men before it was stopped and executed, one its master, and two of his master's friends.

"Yes," Heero confirmed. "I had an interesting conversation with him, and would like to continue it. How much do you ask for the Draeid, Duo Maxwell?"

Tiper-Hayne stuttered out a price, incredibly high, but Heero handed over the money without a moment's hesitation. Tiper-Hayne's jaw dropped as he realized Heero was serious, and by the look on his face, deathly serious.

"Please bring him out to the carriage, and do not lay a hand against him," Heero growled threateningly, then turned on his heel and headed out for the carriage. He found Trowa standing outside, waiting for him, his eyes shining. Heero wondered what had made his brother so happy. After a moment of silent waiting, they brought Duo out. He was still blinking against the harsh glare of the sun, then saw Heero and gaped.

"Holy shit," he croaked.

"Take his shackles off," Heero ordered to the two slave-guards.

"But, your Highness…"

"Highness?" Duo croaked again, eyes widening.

"…he is a Draeid…" Trowa's eyebrow rose at this announcement as the slave-guard continued. "…and is highly dangerous."

"Take off his shackles," Heero repeated more firmly, glaring at them. The slave-guard swallowed, then unlocked Duo's foot shackles, then proceeded to his arms. The moment his hands were free, Duo swung a fist, hitting the younger slave-guard square on the chin, knocking him down and out. He twisted to go for the other one but received a fist in his own face, then was thrown on the ground, arm pinned behind his back. He snarled.

"Stop it!" Heero yelled, pulling the guard off Duo. He reached down and quickly helped the Draeid slave up. Duo, surprisingly, didn't attack him. He simply glared at the guard and wiped his mouth, a thin stream of blood seeping from the split lip, then allowed Heero to bring him to the carriage. He stared in mock disbelief at the royal insignia and banners for a moment, then stepped in, Heero and Trowa following. Heero looked at the previous inhabitant of the carriage and blinked. An Aranian. Trowa had found himself an Aranian, like Zechs. No wonder he was happy. He watched Trowa look fondly at the smaller boy, who looked at Heero and Duo with wide, scared blue eyes. A scared Aranian at that., most likely untrained.

"I didn't think you were actually serious, rich boy," Duo muttered beside him as they sat on the cushioned chair. "So what are you guys?" he asked, looking at Heero and Trowa's fine clothes. "A Lord's son?"

"Princes," Trowa said, and Duo choked, coughing.

"Princes?" he croaked even worse than before.

Heero nodded. "Trowa, this is Duo Maxwell. Duo, this is Trowa Barton, my best friend and adopted brother." Trowa nodded at Duo.

Duo coughed out a hi, then looked at the Aranian. "So who's the blue eyed angel?" he asked.

"I don't know his name," Trowa shrugged. "He hasn't told me yet." Duo looked at the Aranian for a moment more, then nodded. Heero wondered just how enamored Trowa was, to buy a slave without knowing his name.

"Quatre."

"Huh?" Duo looked away from the window and to the Aranian, as did Heero and Trowa.

"My name is Quatre," he repeated in a soft and timid voice. "Quatre Raberba Winner."

"Well, then," Trowa smiled. "Heero, Duo, meet Quatre Raberba Winner. Quatre, this is Heero Yuy, my best friend and brother, and Duo Maxwell."

Quatre swallowed and nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Really?" Duo laughed. "That's cool."

"Are you really a prince, Trowa?" he asked, turning his eyes to the taller boy. Trowa nodded, his features softening.

"Hey, does this mean I get to live in a palace?" Duo chirped, laughing when Heero nodded. "Sweet! A palace! Hey, can I have a bath when we get there? Man, I feel like a bath." Again Heero nodded.

"You can have a bath when you meet Wufei, head slave," Heero explained. "He'll clean you up and get you some clothes."

"Oh, cool," Duo said, used to the slave reference. Quatre's eyes widened and he seemed to withdraw into himself again. "I like black, by the way," Duo pointed out. "I ain't wearing no slave uniform or anything like that. Black, or nothing." Then he realized what he just said and blushed.

"You can wear black clothes, Duo," Heero said, chuckling inside.

"Good," Duo sighed in relief that he hadn't taken it the wrong way.

oooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOooooo

Quatre unconsciously gripped Trowa's hand as they climbed the tall steps towards the palace entrance. He had been amazed by the sheer enormity of it, and the white marble stones and golden inlaid dazzled the eyes. There had been a lot of people when they exited the carriage, mostly guards and a few servants. Quatre had grabbed Trowa's hand in nervousness, and the green eyed boy had smiled at him. For some reason, those green eyes calmed him. He hadn't been this calm since he was captured, and now he felt safe. Well, relatively safe.

He held Trowa's hand, hiding behind him almost as they entered into a great hall. It was big, huge. It seemed larger inside than it did from the outside, and this was the entrance alone. It was so impressive, so enormous. The grandure of it pressed on Quatre, and he leaned against Trowa as though to hide. A voice suddenly spoke out, cool and collected and loaded with what Quatre would call charm, and he looked up to see a man walking down the stairs. His hair was a deep brown, brushed back to a loose ponytail on the nape of his neck.

"Heero, Trowa!" he said as he began to rapidly descend the stairs. He pulled Heero into a deep hug, then followed suite with Trowa, making him let go of Quatre's hand. Quatre immediately felt lost in the enormous entrance hall, and withdrew, feeling afraid once more.

"Now, introduce me."

Heero followed the man's instructions. "Trieze, this is Duo Maxwell," Heero brought Duo back to earth. He had been roaming the grand entrance with his eyes, staring in wonder. "Duo, this is my father, King Trieze Kushrenada."

"Hey, cool," Duo grinned, shaking Trieze's hand. "Never met a king before. Nice place you got here," he whistled as he looked at the entrance once more.. "Must've cost a bundle."

Trieze appeared slightly startled by Duo's odd greeting, but returned the shake, smiling. "More than you imagine Duo." He turned to Heero. "I see you got yourself a firecracker, here." Heero simply nodded as Duo took a few steps away, staring at the entrance. He seemed enamored. It was gorgeous, of course.

"Trieze, this is Quatre Raberba Winner." Quatre looked at Trowa as he began introducing him, then at Trieze. "Quatre, this is my adopted father, King Trieze Kushrenada." Quatre wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He had never met a king before. He decided on a bow of the head and extended his hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," he said, shaking hands. He had to force himself to speak loud enough to be heard.

"The same feelings to you, young slave," Trieze replied. Quatre swallowed at the word slave. He had no idea what being a slave was! He had imagined all sorts of unpleasant things when he was with Koirine and Koidin, and from what they told him, it was horrible. At least Trowa didn't make him wear those awful shackles. He felt strangled when he wore them, trapped like a rat in a cage. Of course, that was, in a way, what he was. He pushed back the feelings of remorse and grief that threatened to well up in him.

"Now where the devil did Wufei get off to?" Trieze muttered as he stepped away. Quatre grabbed Trowa's hand again, glad for the safe feeling he got.

"You know," Heero said softly to Trowa, but Quatre heard. "He really has become more pleasant.. He used to be all business."

"He smiles more," Trowa nodded and replied. "We shall have to thank Zechs sometime." Heero nodded and then walked after Duo, who was beginning to wander. Duo had so much courage!

"Wufei!" Trieze called. Who was Wufei? His answer came in a moment as an unusual boy came running, stopping in front of Trieze and bowing deeply. So that's what you did.

"Oh, stop it already, Wufei," Trieze scolded with a graceful air. "You are too well known to be bowing anymore." Okay, maybe you didn't bow. "My sons have brought back their slaves. Get them cleaned up while we go to dinner."

"Yes, Trieze," Wufei nodded, and turned to evaluate the two new slaves. Trieze began to walk off, and Heero followed him. Quatre tightened his grip on Trowa's hand as he stepped forward. Trowa looked back with his big green eyes at his own fearful ones.

"Don't worry, little one," he said. "Wufei will take care of you. I'll see you later." And he let go, following after his father and brother.

"What are your names?" Wufei asked. Quatre swallowed. Wufei was unique looking, with ivory skin and intelligent tilted black eyes. His black hair was pulled back tightly into a small ponytail, and he wore a strange white suit.

"Duo Maxwell, a Draeid," Duo grinned, and swing an arm suddenly over Quatre's shoulder. "And this here's my Aranian buddy, Quatre Raburble Winner."

"Raberba," Quatre corrected softly.

"Right. Quatre Raberba Winner."

"Three names," Wufei eyed him. "Well, Duo, Quatre. I am Wufei Chang, the head slave. I'm going to clean you up and give you your new slave clothes, and instruct you on what your duties are later on. For now, follow me, and you'll bath, then we'll cut your hair."

"Hey, no way!" Duo argued. "I ain't wearing no slave clothes! I want black clothes, like what I'm wearing. And I'm not cutting my hair!" He grabbed his braid protectively. "Ask Heero, he'll tell you."

Wufei sighed. "Very well for now, since you are personal slaves, but I shall ask him later."

"Woah, we're personal slaves?" Duo choked. "He never told me that!"

"Yes, Maxwell, you are a personal slave," Wufei repeated firmly.

"Oh, he's gonna get an earful tonight!" Duo growled. Quatre frowned, not understanding. What's a personal slave?

Wufei led them up a separate set of stairs, smaller than the split set he had seen in the entrance, the ones Trieze had come down, and into a room. Two tubs sat on the stone floor, steaming of warm water, and towels, shampoos, and soaps were set about. A candle was lit in between them, and it gave off a sweet aroma. Quatre liked it. It felt…calm.

"Strip and wash yourselves thoroughly," Wufei instructed. "I'll be back in an hour with some clothes." He left and Duo giggled boyishly, reaching a hand into the water.

"Oooh, that's nice," he said, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Quatre turned away, a bit embarrassed, but began to undress himself. Soon, they both sat in the steaming tubs, letting the water soak through them, removing all dirt and grime. Quatre thought it felt like heaven, and he must have said it out loud, because Duo was agreeing. The Draeid had undone his braid, and it hung from his head in a long, soaped up manner as he washed it. Quatre followed suit, and soon both felt enormously clean. The shampoo had smelt like lilacs, and the candle was burning lavender leaves, he believed. It was a very peaceful aroma and setting.

Wufei came in just as he began to doze, bringing him alert again. He placed a black pile of clothes beside Duo and a white pile beside Quatre, then left, with instructions to get dressed and meet him outside. Quatre dried off, happy to have clean clothes to slip into. Maybe being a slave wasn't so bad. The outfit was simple. Soft under garments, simple white pants, also of a soft material, and a soft button up shirt. Duo's was the same, but black, and the braided boy hugged himself, then began to towel off his long hair before it soaked his new shirt.

"These feel like nightclothes," Quatre murmured drowsily.

"They probably are," Duo said, scowling again for a moment. He dropped the towel and grabbed a brush from somewhere, stroking it through his hair. Quatre located a comb beside where Duo had found the brush, and quickly tamed his golden white hair. He finished as Duo began to redo his braid. As soon as Duo finished, they went outside. Wufei was waiting there, and he handed each of them a pair of warm indoor slippers which they slipped on, then led them down to a nicely decorated hall. He stopped near one door, opening it and gesturing Duo inside, then crossed the hall to the opposite door and nudged Quatre inside, closing the door behind him.

Quatre stared, eyes wide at the gorgeous room. It was large, decorated in neutral hues and shades of gold and scarlet. An enormous bed, looking enormously comfortable with canopy attached and large white pillows and soft golden sheets beckoned to him at one end of the room. A large dresser occupied the wall beside it, a similar one on the other side, both of a deep brown stained wood. There was a small corner turned library area, with shelves of books and two comfortable chairs and a small table, a door a small ways away. A great mahogany desk and detailed chair leaned against another wall, just beside another door. A large rug adorned the middle of the floor, and on the rug was a table large enough for two, with a tray of food set upon it and tea. Quatre's stomach growled and he sat and began eating. Now, when he was clean, fresh, drowsy, and full, he located the bathroom for a moment. Oh, it was grand! Everything was shining white, and sparkling to the eye, and a great special tub sat in the end, looking wonderful to try someday. He used the washroom and then ran and pounced upon the bed, snuggling in the enormous pillows and burrowing beneath the blankets, letting sleep take him easily as he thought that maybe being a slave was different from what he thought. Maybe, it wasn't that bad…

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That is the fourth Chapter. Please review. Constructive critisism is welcome, but no flames please. Enjoy! 

OO I'm getting a little repetetive, aren't I? Heheh...

Storm


	5. Personal Slave?

Fifth chappie, yay!

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Trowa stifled a yawn as he said goodnight to Heero and entered his room. There were candles lit, illuminating it, and a smile graced his features as he saw a little form buried beneath his covers, a smile gracing the smooth face of Quatre. Trowa slipped out of his royal dress with relief and slid on his nightwear. It was fresh and soft, and he felt exhausted from the dinner. He quietly slipped into the bed beside Quatre and brushed the Aranian's bangs out of his sleeping face.

"Good night, little one," he whispered and closed his eyes, relaxing his stiff muscles and waiting for the weightless feeling of slumber.

oooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOooooo

"You didn't tell me I was a personal slave!"

Heero looked tiredly over at Duo as he entered his silver and blue room, who sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed and brows furrowed in a scowl. "You never asked," he replied nonchalantly as he slipped off his heavy dress cloak.

"You could have told me!" Duo replied, more disapointed now than angry in his eyes. "I had to find out from Wufei! I don't like it!"

"Look, Duo," Heero said with a sigh. "Trieze insisted that I get a personal slave, so I did. Doesn't mean I bought you for personal slave reasons."

"Huh?" Duo frowned for a moment. "Why not? What's wrong with me? I'm not that ugly, am I?"

Heero stared in disbelief at Duo. One second he had been complaining about being a personal slave, and now he was pouting because he thought Heero didn't want him.

"No, you're not ugly, Duo," Heero replied, which got him a suspicious look. Heero stifled a groan. "Look, I liked your singing. I liked your spunk. I liked the life in your eyes. You weren't a robot! If I'm forced by my father to share a room with a personal slave, I'd rather it be a living, breathing, thinking being, rather than a dumb, witless slave."

"Oh," Duo breathed. He appeared to be shocked. "So you really liked my singing?" Heero nodded. "And I don't have to cut my hair or wear a slave uniform, do I?" Heero shook his head this time. "Cool!"

"I like your hair, Duo," Heero muttered while he changed.

"You better," Duo chuckled, but his eyes held uncertainty in what Heero just said. "Oh. And, uh, Heero?"

"Hn?"

"I don't think Quat knows what a personal slave is," he said slowly.

Heero blinked and looked into almost violet eyes. "Trowa is the most gentle, compassionate, caring person I know. Quatre will be fine."

"Oh," Duo blinked. "Good to hear that." Heero finished buttoning up his night wear and slipped into the bed, after blowing out the candles, pulling the warm covers up to his nose. After a moment, he felt Duo slip in beside him, keeping on the far side of the large bed.

"Don't try anything stupid, rich boy," he muttered venemously as he got comfortable.

"Baka," Heero muttered, then snuggled into the pillow in exhaustion and warmth. "Mmm. G'night, Duo."

"Yeah," Duo muttered back, his voice a bit softer. "Night, Heero." And Heero dozed off, leaving the braided Draeid slave to his thoughts.

oooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOooooo

Quatre woke up slowly, one of those wake ups that brings your mind to consciousness, but keeps your eyes closed in drowsiness. Therefore, all he was aware of was the soft mattress, the warm blankets, and the wonderful aroma barraging his senses.

"Mmm," he mumbled. "…smells nice."

"Thank you," replied a sleepy voice, and Quatre's eyes flew open to stare at Trowa. He jerked upright in shock and confusion, falling off the bed as he backed away. Trowa's eyes flew open, wide awake now, as he looked over the edge at a sprawled little Aranian, who gaped up at him.

"Are you alright, Quatre?" he asked in concern.

Quatre rolled over and sat up, still staring at Trowa. "You…you're in my bed," he whispered.

"Actually, you were in my bed," Trowa replied, then realized Quatre had no idea what a personal slave was.

"Your bed? But…what…"

"Little one," Trowa slid down off the bed to sit in front of him, cross-legged. "Do you know what kind of slave you are?"

"Slave?" Quatre choked, eyes widening into the same fear invoked gaze he had met him with. He swallowed. "Um…Wufei said I was a personal…slave."

"Do you know what a personal slave does?"

Quatre slowly shook his head and spoke softly. "Wufei said he was going to explain our duties to us later on."

"A personal slave is a slave who shares a room with his Master," Trowa explained.

Suspicious thoughts crept into Quatre's mind, memories of some of the things Koirine and Koidin had told him. "Just share a room?" He asked timidly, eyeing Trowa in fear.

Trowa's brows furrowed just a tad. "No. Technically, personal slaves do more…intimate things…" Quatre cut him off with a cry as he covered his face in shame and fear with his hands, tears blurring his closed eyes. "No, no, little one," Trowa tried to explain, pulling a hand away. "That's only technically. I have no intention of hurting you or using you or anything! I just wanted to protect you, Quatre!" He gathered the small Aranian into his arms, stroking his back as he tried to reassure Quatre he was safe. Finally, Quatre's sobs ceased and he hiccupped.

"I…I don't even know how to be a slave," Quatre whispered. "I don't even want to be a slave. I want to be at home!" New tears threatened to spill.

Trowa hugged Quatre, now moving to brush his hair with his rough circus hands. "Believe me, Quatre, please. If I could, I would take you home and set you free. But I can't, right now. So please believe me when I say I want to protect you. I want to protect Quatre, not hurt him."

Quatre sniffed. "I…I believe you, Trowa," he whispered. "You make me feel safe. I'm just so scared right now."

"I know, little one," Trowa hushed. "I know." He stroked Quatre's back for a few more moments, then held him out. "Would you like some breakfast?"

"Yes, please," Quatre said. "Thank you." Trowa helped him up to the table, which, to Quatre's delight, had been cleaned of his supper tray and replaced by a breakfast tray, filled with more rare treats and tea. They began to eat just as the door burst open, a bouncing Draeid running in.

"Hey, guys," he smiled, stopping right beside the table. he eyed Trowa suspiciously for a moment, then turned to Quatre, whose eyes were a tad red from crying still. "You all okay, Quat?"

Quatre swallowed his bread roll and smiled back. "Yes, Duo, I'm fine. Thank you for being concerned."

"Hey, slaves gotta take care of their own," he announced.

"Why are you here?" Trowa asked, and Duo pouted.

"Ah, Heero's bein' grouchy. Just because I woke him up when I tickled him with my braid and pushed him off the bed. He threatened to kill me and called me a baka about five times, then threw a boot at me. So, here I am!" He finished with a wave and grabbed a pastry from their tray. "Mmm. Great stuff."

"…," Trowa blinked.

"What's a baka?" Quatre asked.

"An idiot, I think," Duo took two more pastries, and Trowa nodded.

"That's not very nice," Quatre frowned.

"Heero isn't generally nice, really," Trowa tried to explain. "He was having a good day yesterday. And I advise against repeating this morning's events, Duo."

Duo simply grinned and chewed his pastry, then grabbed a few more and waved. "You know, these are good. Maybe I'll stay for a while. I was planning on splitting today, but then again... Anyways, gotta get back, now. Maybe Heero's calmed down…" And Duo Maxwell took his leave.

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I like repetetiveness. Get's the chapters posted faster. Please review the fifth chapter! Constructive critisism is welcome, but no flames, please. Enjoy!

Storm


	6. Reunion & A Rich Slave

This is the sixth chapter! A great heaping helping of thank yous go to **empathysdarkness**, for being my very first reviewer! Yay, **empathysdarkness!**

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

**

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**

**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Quatre and Trowa finished theirmeal in silence, then Trowa helped Quatre locate his clothes, which were in a dresser of his own.

"What do I do?" Quatre asked as he chose an outfit, Trowa changing on the other side of the bed. He kept his eyes averted, blushing.

"Huh?"

"What do I do all day?" he replied, holding up a nice light blue tunic with light yellow wave stitching on the hems to look at. He set it beside him and proceeded to look for a pair of matching pants to go along with it in the next drawer.

"I have a few things to attend to this morning, but I'll pick you up at noon for lunch. We'll be eating with Trieze and Zechs, and Heero and Duo will be there as well. Until then, you can either stay in here or explore. Unless you want to wait for me to give you a small tour later."

"I guess I could read," Quatre replied. "I don't like wandering alone."

"After lunch, I'll show you a few things, and maybe we'll go riding if you'd like."

"Riding?" Quatre turned, holding his clothes. Trowa was just finished dressing, tying a golden sash around his waist. It accented his tight black wrap pants well and matched his golden house slippers. He had a simple white tunic on, plain, but still high class looking. "That would be wonderful! I love riding!"

"Glad to hear it," Trowa smiled slightly. "I have to go now. You're free to do whatever you wish. If you have any problems, ask around for Wufei." Trowa opened a small box on his dresser and withdrew two circular rings attached by a chain. Quatre's eyes went wide and he stepped back. "Don't worry, Quatre," Trowa said, snapping the smaller ring onto Quatre's wrist. He slipped the other larger ring around his neck like a collar. Quatre's hands went up to it in panic. "I'm not locking you up, Quatre. It's just so people know you're my slave and don't touch you. Bad things can happen if you're not claimed. I'll see you later." And he left the room, Quatre now alone, pulling awkwardly at the collar.

It was smooth and unmarred by design or such, but he could feel the initials T. B. engraved in it. It was a light golden color, and actually felt smooth against his skin, instead of chaffing. It scared him none the less. Another sign he was a slave, and it wasn't all a dream, and he wasn't home.

He looked around for a moment at the large room, then slipped into the bathroom, washing his hands and face before he changed. He tamed his wild morning hair and looked at himself, light blue tunic accenting against a simple pair of leggings. He slipped his house slippers on to keep his feet comfortably warm and then began to browse the shelves. He found a thick book he thought he might like and settled into one of the comfortable chairs, immersing himself as he had done happily before into the words on the page. His stomach growled a few hours later, alerting him he was hungry and it should be near lunchtime. He took a small pastry leftover to tide him over and checked the ornate clock hung on the wall. Eleven thirty four. He had read for a little over three hours, if he recalled correctly. He wondered if he had to dress up for lunch with Trieze, and noted in his mind to ask Trowa. He truly wondered who this Zechs was. He sounded interesting. He marked his book with a bookmark he found on the table, and set it down, then went into the bathroom and began to clean up a bit. He heard the door open and left the bathroom to see Duo, not Trowa.

"Hey, Quat," Duo said. "If I'd known you were all alone, too, I'd have joined you."

"I was reading," Quatre said. Duo 'ah'ed and nodded. Quatre noticed that Duo had on the collar, chain, and bracelet, too, in a slightly darker, more silver metal, H. Y engraved. He also was wearing a grand black sash around his waist. Trowa came in then, looking at Duo. Duo stood up and excused himself, saying he had to re-braid his hair for lunch, and vanished. Trowa looked at Quatre.

"Did you enjoy your morning?" he asked.

"Yes," Quatre replied truthfully, dipping his eyes as he thought a slave was supposed to do. "I found a good book. Do I have to dress up for lunch?"

"No, you look fine," Trowa said. "You look fine. I just came early to give you this." He held out his hand.

Quatre reached out and took the soft silken sash. He looked at it in awe. It was a clear white, just barely see through. He noticed something on the end and looked. "Q.R.W.," he read his initials, written beautifully in sparkling black thread.

"Quatre Raberba Winner," Trowa said.

"Wow," Quatre breathed, then looked up sheepishly. "I don't know how to tie a sash."

Trowa took it from him and wrapped it around his waist, tying it in a handsome knot of some kind at his side. "I'll explain the secret of the sash later," he said mysteriously. "But we have to go now. We'll be the last ones there, I think." He took Quatre's hand and led him out of the room and down so many hallways and corridors Quatre knew he would be lost if he were alone, so he kept a tight hold on Trowa. They finally met some tall doors and entered into a warm brown and red room, a table set on a woven rug, tapestries hanging from the wall, and a group of chairs by a fireplace up in the head of the room. The fire and a few candles were all that lit the room, giving it a warm, shadowy feeling. Duo bounced over to them, Heero staying where he was, rolling his eyes. Apparently, Duo was driving the prince crazy.

"Good, you're here," Trieze came into view from near the fireplace, a an walking behind him. "I'd like you to meet Zechs Merquise. Zechs, this is Duo Maxwell and…"

"Quatre?" the man stepped forward, fully into the light. He laughed. "Quatre Raberba Winner!"

"Milliardo?" Quatre gasped, staring at the older Aranian. "Milliardo!" Quatre let go of Trowa's hand and swarmed into the older man he had once known well. Milliardo Peacecraft looked the same, if maybe his platinum blonde hair was a bit longer, just past his shoulders, and that everyone was calling him Zechs.

"I think I missed something," Duo said.

"I think we all missed something," Heero said, a wary glow in his eyes.

"Never thought I'd see you again, kid," Zechs ruffled Quatre's hair. "But it's Zechs now, not Milliardo. Milliardo Peacecraft disapeared when I became a slave. Zechs Merquise is my name."

"My, my," Trieze set a hand on Zechs shoulder. "Keeping secrets, Zechs?"

Zechs frowned and shook his head. "I was known as Milliardo Peacecraft when I was a free Aranian. But I'm Zechs Merquise now, and happy about it."

"How do you know Quatre?" Trowa asked.

"Quatre and I were friends. We lived in the same neighbourhood when I was free. Oh, how's my sister doing?" Zechs looked back at Quatre.

"She's okay, now," Quatre saddened a bit as he thought of home. "She was pretty depressed for a while when we couldn't find you. We all were." He looked up. "Lucrezia Noin took her in to live with her. Other than that, nothing has changed, except a few new babies and such. So you were captured?"

"Captured and a slave," Zechs confirmed. "Didn't like it at first, but now, I wouldn't give it up for anything." Trieze smiled knowingly. "Someday, though, I intend to go back and visit home for a while. Old Trieze here won't let me go yet, though. Says I'm unpredictable." A twinkle flashed in his light blue eyes as Trieze frowned. Quatre saddened at the thought that Zechs liked being a slave. How could anyone like being a slave? It hadn't been as bad as Quatre thought it would be, but he knew that was only because Trowa bought him. He was still owned, like a pet, and he didn't like it.

"Cool," Duo laughed. "Quat's got someone he knows here, now. Is this supposed to be lunch, or what?" At those words, some slaves dressed in simple white robes came in, placing numerous plates of food on the table. A few others lit some more candles, illuminating the table brightly. Trieze sat at the head of the set-for-six small table, Zechs taking the end. Heero and Trowa sat on either side of their father, Quatre and Duo seating themselves beside their own masters and Zechs. While Trieze engaged Heero and Trowa in some sort of business conversation, Zechs began to chat with Duo and Quatre about their first night and morning at the palace. Quatre blushed as he was reminded of the morning, and Duo boldly said he'd knock Heero's block off if he tried anything funny. Heero paused in his conversation to cuff his head and call him a baka, and Duo insisted he could beat Heero since he was a Draeid. Heero had returned to speaking with Trieze, so Duo was ignored, and he pouted for a moment before eating again.

"So, how are you doing, Quatre?" Zechs asked. "Suddenly being a slave can be frightening. I know."

"I'm doing okay," Quatre smiled genuinely, but fear was still present in his eyes.. "Trowa is very kind to me. I don't know how to be a slave, though."

"Well, I would say it's just a matter of being a good friend," Zechs explained. "But Trieze says I never know what I'm talking about." He grinned.

"I'm worried about my father and sisters," Quatre said quietly, playing with his meat. "They must think I'm dead. Or they're worrying sick over my being captured. I…don't know what they'll do."

"Ramid is wise, Quatre," Zechs replied. "He won't try anything against the kingdom, even if his only son is here."

"I'm not worried about him attacking," Quatre sighed. "I'm more worried about him doing something…silent. Maybe like sending Rashid and the Maguanacs to locate me, and…" He trailed off, noticing how everyone was looking at him.

"How important are ya, Quat?" Duo asked before Trieze could.

"I…"

"Quatre is the only male heir to the Winner fortune in Arania. You could consider him a prince in our land," Zechs said.

* * *

Once again...please review, constructive critisism is welcome, but no flames, please...yadedadada! But seriously, review, please! Every reviewer gets thanked by me in the story and gets their stories reviewed, if they have any. 

Storm


	7. You Have Lions

Seventh chapter, tadah!

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), so NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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"I'm not a prince!" Quatre defended. "My father is only in the Leader's Trian."

"Ramid Winner is the leader of the Leader's Trian."

"Milliardo, stop it!" Quatre argued.

"It's Zechs," Zechs corrected. "And he did ask. Knowing you, kid, you'd shrink the truth. You're too modest sometimes. He's a multi-billionaire heir." Duo grinned and Quatre shoved Zechs.

"He sure knows how to rile you," he whistled. "Well, lookie here. The orphan boy gets stuck with a king, two princes, a happy slave, and a rich slave. What's a Draeid to do?"

"You're an orphan?" Heero asked. Duo blinked as he realized what he just said, then shrugged.

"Yeah. They kicked me out of Draeida 'cause I kept stealing and stuff like that. And 'cause they don't believe in executions, they send you to prolonged torture as a slave." Heero sighed and rolled his eyes again.

"I wouldn't call this prolonged torture, Duo," Heero waved at the table.

"Yeah, well, you ain't so bad. The others, though," Duo chuckled. "Nasty creeps deserved what I gave 'em."

"Don't tell me, please," Quatre said, and it appeared the braided slave wasn't about to.

Lunch finished in easy conversation, but truly ended with a dreaded remark from Trieze that they would have to 'discuss' Quatre's problem. Which meant he might end up with the Maguanacs fighting against guardsmen, and he didn't want that, since the guardsmen would be doomed. Trowa didn't mention it, and instead explained the secret of the 'stealth' sash and took him riding, which he hadn't done in so long. They rode for a few hours, arriving back just as the sun went down, a gorgeous sight. Quatre became increasingly nervous as night approached and Trowa led the way back to the room. But he didn't settle down for the night, not yet. Instead, he brought Quatre over to the wall and pulled aside a scarlet drapery, revealing a third door in the room. He pulled a golden key from a chain around his neck and unlocked it, swinging it open and walking in. Quatre followed, then his eyes widened as he took in the room.

It seemed to be filled with cushions. Cushions and pillows and blankets, like a regular foreign desert oasis. The floor, what little was bare, was an incredibly soft carpet. But, that was nothing compared to what he saw laying on the pillows.

"Quatre, I'd like to introduce you to Mist and Dew, my lions," Trowa said. Quatre stared at the huge feline beasts as one roared and stepped up to Trowa. He stepped back in alarm, but Trowa took his hand and gently pulled him forward as he rubbed the mane of his pet. "Don't worry. They're tame and gentle as a lamb." He placed Quatre's hand on the deep brown mane.

"You…have…lions," he whispered. The lion under his hand gave a small friendly growl and nuzzled him, almost knocking him over.

"You're petting Dew," Trowa said and left him to go to the other, a female. "And this is Mist. I've known them since I was four, and owned them since I was ten, seven years."

"You're seventeen, then," Quatre said. Normally, he would have thought he would be terrified silly at being in the presence of two full grown lions, deadly kings of the forest. But he wasn't. He felt quite calm and safe petting them, just as he did when he was with Trowa. He got a feeling of security, and he looked at Trowa, once again firming his wavering belief that the green eyed prince wouldn't hurt him. "I'm..sixteen."

"If you'd like, I can spend the night in here," Trowa said, his head leaning upon Mist's smooth golden back. Quatre started at this offer.

"I…but…," he stammered, then frowned. "That's not right. It's your room. I'm a…a slave, I can't kick my…master out of his own bed. Besides," he let a small wavery smile onto his lips. "I trust you, Trowa. I…I really do."

Their eyes met and Trowa looked on with heartfelt joy. "Thank you, little one."

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Review, constructively critisize, don't flame...hey, I changed it. Yay.

Storm


	8. Star Gazing

Chapter Eight, dundundun! Everybody clap and applaud...oh, and review !

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Heero had repressed the urge to yell in fury and throw one of his knives at Duo. He had constantly chattered Heero's ears off ever since lunch, and Heero, who was normally a quiet, unsocial boy, had thought he was being driven mad. He had told the baka to shut up numerous times, but Duo simply ignored him. Finally, Heero had stormed off, leaving Duo alone in the middle of a bare hallway, hoping beyond hope that the Draeid would get lost. He had relocated to the target court, practicing his throwing knives. After a few hours he realized he kept missing his mark, his mind filled with new worry about his slave, and abandoned any thoughts of completing his original target objective. He threw his knives down carelessly and fell to a sitting position on the ground, thinking. How could a slave, who was noisy, annoying, rebellious, disobedient, and constantly happy, cause him to have so much anxiety in his mind? No one had ever ruined Heero's knife practice before, but this new slave, this Draeid…Duo was different.

Heero called a household slave into the room and asked that someone locate Duo and bring him to his room. The slave slipped out, relaying the message through the lines. Heero never understood how the slaves managed to communicate so fast, and he didn't truly care how. He was just glad of their speed as the slave returned a few minutes later. What he said surprised Heero.

"The personal Draeid slave, Duo Maxwell, is already in master's room," he said, and Heero waved him away.

Duo went back. He could have easily run away, but he went back. And to Heero's room no less. Heero stood up and left, muttering in his mind as he strode to his quarters. He pushed the door open, steeling himself to endure Duo's mind numbing talk, and looked around the empty room in confusion, then noticed the open window.

Panic and sorrow swept through Heero's mind. Duo was gone. He had left, run away. He bolted, then stopped himself. Why was he thinking that? Why was he sad about a simple slave running away? No, he should check and then send out the slave-hunters to go retrieve him. But that thought filled him with dread as he imagined Duo in shackles again, being beaten by the slave-guards for running away. How in the bloody stars had a slave like Duo turned him into a softie in one day? Heero swallowed, pondering as he walked calmly towards the window, his cold, soldier face on the outside, a deep hope to see the braided baka on the inside.

Heero stuck his head out the window, then jumped and knocked it on the window. "Hey, Heero."

"Duo?" Heero swallowed as he looked to the side. Duo had shimmied out onto the thick window ledge and sat, his legs dangling over, staring up at the night sky. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just thinking," Duo replied, his voice soft and lacking the hyper tone it usually held. "And looking at the stars."

"Oh."

"Want to join me?" Duo looked at him. Heero stared into Duo's soft shadowed eyes, then relented and shimmied out as well, sitting beside the Draeid. His hand brushed Duo's braid, but he left it beside him. They sat in silence, Duo gazing at the twinkling dots of light in the black night sky. Heero looked up as well.

"I've never looked at the stars before," he whispered.

"Never? Never before?" Duo asked.

"Well, I've seen them and I know they're there, but I've never sat and just looked at them," Heero replied.

"Oh," Duo seemed sad for him, and he looked up again. It was silent between them as they looked, Heero for the first real time. Duo finally breathed in deeply. "I've always love the night sky," he said softly, voice full of memories. "I figure, no matter what happens to me here, the sky never changes. It's a solid picture, the same stars shining each night, over and over again. No matter what I go through, I'll always get through it and I'll get to see the solid night sky again, an unwavering thing. No matter how many things happen on this earth, the night sky will always be there, a place for me to go. It gives me peace inside. And I know that all the people I love can see the sky just like I can…"

Heero was wracked by an incredible sense of guilt, then utter peace and curiousity as Duo's voice lilted over him. He looked up at the stars, trying to understand how Duo saw it. Duo suddenly smiled. Heero knew, because when Duo smiled, everything seemed to brighten up. "I used to take all the stars and draw pictures or make words by connecting them when I was younger. And see the moon?" Heero looked as Duo continued. "The moon always looks like a graveyard to me."

"A graveyard?" Heero repeated, staring up at the shining silver orb. Duo nodded and they fell into silence again, Heero wondering about the stars and the moon and the night sky and why Duo loved it for the reasons he did. It finally slipped into his mind. Slaves had lives, just like he did. He wondered what Duo's life had been before he was captured.

There was a small sound of a clatter of trays, and Duo pricked up. "Hey, dinner, Heero!" he grinned. "Get inside, let me through. I'm famished!" Heero complied as soon as he knew the serving slave was gone and slipped back inside the room. He closed the window behind them as Duo ran to inspect the evening's meal. Heero sat down, staring in wonder as the unique boy who affected him bit into a chicken leg.

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This is Chapter eight. You know the drill. Review, pleasey please, and help me out here, peoples Please don't flame...I'm sensitive, heheh.

Storm


	9. Nightmares

Ninth Chapter, dun dun dun. These are coming quickly. Lucky people who is reading this story...

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Heero was woken slowly by a soft sound. It seemed to be a whimper, and he opened his eyes, looking in concern at Duo. Once again, Duo had opted to stay as far away from Heero as possible on the bed. Heero suspected he would have slept on the floor if it didn't get so cold at night. Duo was now huddled, his back to Heero, his braid flowing over his shoulder. He was shaking slightly, and sniff reached Heero's ears. Duo was crying!

"Duo," he touched him on the shoulder. Duo flinched away and sat up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Heero," Duo sniffed, wiping a sleeve across his face, keeping his back to Heero. He sounded angry. "Perfectly dandy." He snorted and stood up, walking away from Heero and entering the washroom. Heero sat up and stared at the door, waiting. Heero wasn't sure how long had passed by when he stood up and followed, but he knew it was too much for an average bathroom trip. Putting his ear to the door, he heard soft sobs. He knocked softly on the door. "Duo?"

There was a moment of silence, and Heero repeated himself. Finally, Duo spoke, his voice muffled through the door. "Go back to bed, Heero, I'm fine."

"Duo, what's wrong?" Heero persisted through the door.

"I'm fine, Heero," Duo repeated a bit more firmly as Heero rattled the locked doorknob.

"Duo, you…," Heero began, only to be cut off by Duo's shout.

"I said I'm fine!" his voice cried, raised. "Now leave me alone!" Heero heard a sudden crash and Duo cursed fluently, along with a small grunt of pain. "Dammit."

"Duo what happened?" Heero asked, and Duo swore again, refusing to reply his question.

"Fine," Heero muttered, walking to his dresser. He withdrew a small brown box, and lifted a key out of it, then proceeded to unlock his bathroom door. He swung the door open and looked at Duo, who was currently holding his head with one hand and his leg with the other, which was bleeding. He sat in a pile of glass, obviously his mirror, and had a few visible other visible cuts.

"Damn stupid corner," he was muttering, then he noticed Heero and swore again at his discovery.

"What did you do?" Heero stared.

"Me?" Duo defended automatically. "I didn't do anything. All I did was kick the counter and the whole mirror falls on my head! Not to mention the counter retaliated and stabbed me! It's a conspiracy, I tell you! Everything's banding together to cause me as much pain as they can!"

"It's a counter, Duo, and a mirror," Heero pointed out. "It's not alive."

"So!" Duo replied. "They can still cause bodily harm, and look!" He waved his arm and exclaimed angrily to Heero. "Why couldn't you just leave me the hell alone!"

Heero knelt down and picked Duo up out of the glass, muttering something. Duo winced as he led the boy out of the room and placed him on a chair, looking for the aid case.

"Stupid rich boys!" Duo continued to snarl. "Can't keep their noses out of a good decent slave's life…" Heero came back with the case. "What gives you the right…?" He broke off with a small cry as Heero slammed the wooden case of bandages on the table, creating a resounding bang and the sound of splintering wood.

"I was worried about you, okay!" he yelled. "I was worried about you!"

Duo looked at Heero, who clutched the box with white knuckles, eyes closed tightly. "Why would a prince be worried about a slave?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Heero burst out, a hand flying to his head. "I don't know. I don't know why I'm worried about you being hurt or running away and not coming back! I don't know why I care if you're crying or hurting or sad! I've only known you for a day. Why? I never used to care…" Questioning came into Heero's eyes as he stared at nothing, then he abruptly turned and left the room, holding his head. Duo stood up to follow and grabbed the edge of the table just in time as his punctured leg flamed. He cursed as he realized it wasn't good to go after Heero until he was fixed up. Quatre appeared in the door, golden white hair disheveled. A sleepy eyed Trowa appeared behind him, looking down the hall where Heero was just vanishing around a corner.

"I told you he was hurt, Trowa," Quatre said. He moved over to Duo and looked at him in concern. Trowa looked at the two slaves, then out at the hall again. He walked away, going after Heero.

"Duo, what happened?" Quatre asked softly.

Duo rubbed a hand through his hair and sighed sadly. "I..I had a nightmare, and I wouldn't tell Heero and he kept asking me and I got mad. I kicked the bathroom counter, and it stabbed me and the mirror fell on my head," Duo explained, pulling a sharp piece of glass out of his hand. He sighed. "And now Heero's mad at me, I think. He ran off, and I can't follow him because of my bloody leg!" Quatre took the bandages and began to clean up Duo's leg quietly, smiling at his choice of words. Duo groaned and set his head in his hands. "I don't understand, anymore, Quat," he whispered. "He's not a normal slave owner. I can't deal with him, I don't know how!"

"It's okay, Duo," Quatre consoled, calming the Draeid's heart. "It'll all be alright."

"I've never had a master that didn't beat me or hurt me or treat me like shit," Duo continued. "I knew how to deal with them. Either a quick knife on the throat or a long piece of rope. Hell, I even strangled one master with my own slave chain," Duo moved the collared hand so the thin yet strong silver chain made a small shink. Quatre hadn't wanted to hear this, so he tried to close his ears, but, of course, that was physically impossible. "But Heero…he hasn't done anything, and I don't understand why not? I'm not servient, or humble, or meek. I don't listen half the time and I shoot my mouth off. I disobey all the time. In fact, I rarely ever obey at all. I've killed my past masters and men and I'm not pure or anything like you, Quat." Duo moaned into his hands. "I can't hurt someone who has done no wrong. AndI can't run away from a place as nice as this!"

"Maybe not all slave masters are cruel," Quatre said softly. "Trowa isn't. He's the nicest person I've ever known. And I don't think Heero is cruel, either."

"But…if they weren't cruel, they wouldn't even have slaves!" Duo protested weakly.

"From what I recall, they said their father ordered them to," Quatre replied. He finished fixing Duo's leg and moved to his cuts from the glass. "So they didn't ask for personal slaves. Myself, I'm thankful that I'm Trowa's slave. I…I think it could be a lot worse…" Quatre trailed off in his sentence and met Duo's eyes solidly. "I was scared, Duo. One moment I was just wandering in the woods, angry at my father, and the next I was in shackles, captured like an animal. My captors told me I was a slave and some of the things slaves do, and I was terrified. I stopped speaking, I was so scared, and…and then Trowa came along, and…well, I'm glad I have Trowa as my…master, and not someone else. I think…I think I love Trowa."

"You love him?" Duo asked with wide eyes.

Quatre didn't answer his question, just continued talking. "And you should be happy that Heero is as nice as he is."

"I will never be happy to be a slave," Duo growled, and Quatre flinched.

"I…I didn't mean that…I just…"

"Sorry, Quat," Duo apologized sadly. "I'm not mad at you, I'm just mad at my life right now. Okay, Heero's a good guy, but he's still a slave owner, and I've been a slave since I was twelve. I can't like someone who owns slaves…"

"But you do."

Duo blinked and looked at Quatre. "What…?"

"You do like Heero," Quatre said. "You don't want to because you think you have to hate all slave owners, because they've treated you bad in the past, but you still do inside. And you're scared because you like him."

"Like…Heero?" Duo repeated. Did he? Did Duo, the wild Draied, the thief, the outcast, the assassin and killer, actually like Heero Yuy? But he couldn't. It was wrong, all wrong. He can't like a master, a prince none the less. He can't…"…Can I?" he whispered. Heero was different. He had been worried that Duo was hurt, worried that he would run away and not come back. Why would he care if Duo ran away?

"Do what I do, Duo," Quatre smiled warmly, placing a hand on his chest. "Follow your heart first, your head next." And he placed one last bandage on a long cut and stood up, walking to the door to leave Duo to his thoughts with a smile.

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Review! Constructively critisize! NOW! Heheh, srry, I'm going a little wacko...please don't flame me...I don't want to burn!

Storm


	10. I Like Him?

Tenth chapter yahoo! I'm in the double digits now, heheh. REVIEW! ...please?

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Trowa located Heero in the most obvious place. It was their hideout from when they were younger, their thinking spot now. It was an old treehouse that they had built themselves. Well, mostly by themselves. It sat in the largest oak tree in the courtyard, a grand ancient one which sat in a secluded corner. It had been a dungeon, a desert, a palace, a forest, a horse, everything. The tree and house had been through many of the two boys games and adventures, but now it stood bare most of the time. Bare, but still loved. Trowa had stared at it for a while before climbing up and sitting down. Even now, when both of them were taller and longer and bigger, it still had ample space, but they couldn't stand up in it anymore. Trowa longed for the younger, carefree days for a moment as they sat in silence. Heero was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, and Trowa didn't dare break the silence. Heero would speak when he was ready, no matter how long that was. Trowa didn't have to wait long.

"Trowa," Heero began, his eyes opening to stare at the old wooden ceiling. "Why does he hate me?" Trowa didn't reply, and Heero continued. "I've never doen anything to him. I haven't hurt him or beat him or used him. He has a great shelter, good food, baths, new clothes. All that, and I haven't asked anything in return. But he still hates me. Why?"

Trowa chose his words carefully. "I don't think he hates you, Heero. Duo is just being cautious. He's a Draied. Everyone dreams of owning a Draied, and everyone thinks you have to beat a Draied to make them obey. Draied's have proved this to be pointless, but masters still beat them, worse than other slaves. Duo has had masters like that. He doesn't hate you, he's just confused as to why you don't beat him. I believe he thinks all slave owners are cruel and beat their slaves, and he's confused to why you are so nice to him when he yells at you or disobeys you or rebels as a slave."

"I don't want him to be a slave," Heero muttered. "I like the life in his eyes, the bounce in his step, the grin he's always wearing. I don't want him to be a dead, lifeless slave."

"But he doesn't understand that, yet, Heero," Trowa said. "He's trying to figure it all out. And, if my guess is correct, Quatre is helping him with that right now."

"Hn," Heero said softly. There was a long pause. "What if he runs away, Trowa?"

"You can send the slave-gaurds after him," Trowa said.

"You know I won't do that," Heero said, sickened at the idea. "They'll beat him and hurt him, and I don't want that."

"You could go after him yourself," Trowa said another option.

"I'm not a slave hunter, Trowa."

"You could get Koirine and Koidin to capture him again."

"I don't want him to be hunted. He's not an animal, and he has to know that."

Trowa stared at heero, startled at this change in his friend's attitude. How had Duo affected him so quickly? "If you don't want to do any of that, you'd have to let him go."

"I don't want to let him go," Heero exclaimed. "I don't want him to hate me or run away or be afraid or anything! I like him too much."

Trowa's eyes widened as he realized why Heero was acting this way. He liked the braided Draied. Heero seemed to realize what he had just said as well, for his eyes went wide and his hand flew up to his head in disbelief. Heero Yuy liked Duo, and not because of his body. He liked Duo for Duo!

"I can't like him," Heero was muttering. "He's a slave…I'm a prince….it can't work…" Can it?

"Zechs is a slave," Trowa pointed out. "And Trieze is his master and King. And they, as far as I know, love each other."

"But…," Heero was mumbling, then reverted back to his original statement as a defense. "He hates me, remember? How could I ever imagine that Duo Maxwell would like me? I'm not going to force myself upon him!"

"He doesn't hate you!" Trowa said firmly, a bit annoyed by his brother's foolish thinking. Why couldn't he just admit it already. "He's just confused." Trowa sighed, a bit tired. "Listen. I'll ask Quatre to talk to Duo, if he hasn't already, and help him understand. Just keep trying Heero. Failure isn't in your vocabulary." He looked at Heero's tired eyes as he nodded and added. "You should go to sleep now. You can sleep in tommorrow, since we have a free day. We could go swimming like we did when we were younger." Heero enjoyed swimming greatly, and the prospect perked him up a bit. Trowa nudged him towards the ladder. Heero climbed down, and he and Trowa walked silently back to their rooms. Trowa enveloped Heero in a hug, a thing which they used to do all the time when they were younger, but rarely now. He gave Heero all his support in the hug and then watched as Heero steeled himself and entered his room.

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Yahoo, tenth chapter done. Hope you liked it! Review...for me...please...and don't burn me with the flames of hate! AAAAH! 

Storm


	11. No, I Love Him

WOOT! Chapter eleven is smokin'! But I'm running out of story to post...so I'm gonna have to start writing again soon.

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Heero was still baffled about his discovery when he entered his room. It was lit by a few candles on the table, but dark everywhere else. He looked at the aid kit in resignation. He had broken the base when he slammed it down, and now the bandages and cream and such were spread everywhere, along with splinters.

"Heero?" a very small and timid voice came from the bed area. Heero looked and saw Duo, wrapped up in blankets with a sad expressioon on his face.

"Yes," he answered just as softly.

"I'm glad you're back. I thought you were gonna leave me alone…," Duo said sadly, his head falling back down to rest on the pillow. After Quatre had left, he had been thinking non stop about Heero, wondering if he was coming back or if he hated him now. He had never admitted it to himself, but he liked the presence of Heero with him at night. It helped with the nightmares. But since Duo had wrapped himself in the bed without Heero there, the memory of tonight's nightmare came back, and, added to his worries about Heero, he hadn't been very stable in his thoughts.

Heero blinked as Duo spoke the last bit. Leave him alone…? Duo didn't want to be alone. He wanted him here with him. That was a good sign, he thought. He walked over to his side of the bed and slipped in soundlessly. "I won't leave you alone, Duo. You should know that from tonight."

Duo did know it, and the familiar scent of trees and nature floated to him from Heero. He had been outside. Heero was worried about him. The thought sent a sense of safety through him, and a question floated up through it. He turned to face Heero. "Why are you worried about me? I'm just a slave…" He had asked him before, but never really gotten an answer.

Heero looked at Duo. The Draied slave had never faced him in bed before, preffering to be separate and keep his back to him. The question startled him. Was he ready to admit he cared? Yes. He was. Maybe he wasn't ready to admit he liked Duo, but he could say that he cared about him, right? "I care about you," he said. "I don't know why I care…" He did, but he couldn't tell him yet. "Just because you're a slave, doesn't mean you're not a person," Heero said firmly, and Duo's eyes widened at the fact the prince of the land was saying this to him. "You're not an animal to be tamed or caged or beaten or hurt. I don't want you to think that way. And I don't want you to think I think that way. I…," Heero faltered here. "I just don't want you to hate me. I don't want to hurt you."

Duo was shocked. Shocked at what his master had just told him. Hearing it from slaves or slaves' masters were different than hearing it from the mouth of your master himself. Heero cared about him. Maybe…maybe Heero like him. But did he want to like Heero? Was he ready to admit his feelings to himself? Duo snorted inside. Actually, the darker side of him snorted. But the Duo side heard Quatre's words in his head.

Follow your heart first, then your head…

Yes! Duo Maxwell did indeed like Heero. He liked his glares, and his 'hn-s' and his cold, aloof manner. He liked how he could get annoyed so easily, and how strong he was. He liked every part of the rich boy, and he decided he enjoyed liking Heero.

"Duo…"

Duo looked up into Heero's eyes and realized he had been zoning out while he thought. Heero's eyes now held sadness and pain, as though he thought Duo did hate him because he didn't reply. "Heero…," he said. I like you. A new thought entered his mind. Like…did he only like Heero? Or did he love him? Then again, what was love really…"Do you hate me?"

"No, baka," Heero replied, but without any anger. It was said tenderly, and Duo's heart skipped. Maybe he did love Heero. No one else had gotten these reactions from him before. There was a long and awkward silence, yet it was pleasant as well somehow.

"Thanks, Heero," Duo whispered. "For caring…" Follow your heart… He swallowed nervously. "I…I don't hate you, either, Hee-chan," Heero blinked, and Duo looked up to meet his eyes. "I can't hate someone who I think I love…"

Heero's breath hitched in his throat. Duo loved him? How…? That question vanished as pure joy came in its place. Duo loved him! Heero had known he liked Duo, and to know that Duo loved him…wait. Duo loved him…did Heero love Duo? He had known that he liked the braided idiot a lot, but could he say he loved him? Well, Heero knew he loved lots of things about Duo. He loved the way his braid bounced as he walked. He loved the way his eyes twinkled when he laughed and how he had that deadly gleam of death in them when he was angry. He loved the way his eyes looked violet when he tilted his head and how he crossed his arms in defiance and how he talked and chattered and laughed when Heero got angry. He loved the life he had in him,a nd the rebellion and the defiance. He loved the way he refused to be a slave even though people called him one. He loved how he thought the moon was a graveyard and liked to watch the stars and how he sang…he did love him! Heero not only loved Duo, he was infatuated. Love at first sight, literally. He blinked as it clicked in his skull, as well as something else.

Duo had swallowed hard when Heero had stiffened. He knew it was coming. The rejection, the pain…and then the beatings. A slave could not love his master unless his master loved him. He felt tears leak from his eyes and tried to stop them, but the sense of worthlessness he had felt before came back to him, overwhelming him. He closed his eyes, unable to watch Heero get angry. He didn't want to see whatever hit him. He curled up closer to himself, tears streaming down his face silently. "I'm sorry…" he muttered in a vain attempt. "I…I didn't mean to…I'm sorry…" He prepared for the pain as Heero's hands pulled his head up again, then his eyes flew wide open in surprise as his lips met Heero's.

Heero was kissing him! They parted, Heero letting it be just a quick kiss, and he met Duo's eyes lovingly. "Sorry for what?" Heero whispered. "Sorry that you love me, or sorry that I love you?"

"You…you love me…?" Duo croaked.

"I think I've always loved you," Heero smiled.

The sense of worthlessness vanished instantly from Duo's mind, filled by the presence and scent of Heero as Duo reached behind the prince and pulled him forward into a deeper kiss. Heero took it happily, and Duo opened his mouth to let Heero in. They finally parted for air and Duo grinned wackily at Heero.

"I'm really yours, now, rich boy," he teased.

"Mine," Heero agreed and pulled Duo closer. Duo obliged, truly glad inside to have Heero's warmth as he lay his head on Heero's shoulder. Duo began to feel sleepy as his head moved to Heero's deep breathing, and Heero's hand stroked his hair and cheek. Duo felt giddily happy. He had never been in love before, and never been cuddled before.

"I love you, Hee-chan," he whispered just in case it was all a dream.

"I love you, Duo."

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This chapter is wonderful! La la lala la! Review this luv-a-lie chapter please. And nofire...no flames...please...

Storm


	12. MY Little One, MY Angel, Mine

Chapter twelve. This is the last I have of pre-written story. That means the next update won't beimmediate. It will be a while. Review! Oh, I'm kind of worried that this chapter might be kind of cheesy...I hope not...review about it.

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. This fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

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**Hiryonin Ichimei**

**Slave Life**

Storm

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Quatre had immediately told Trowa all about how Duo liked Heero the second he was in the room. Trowa had replied by telling how Heero liked Duo. Quatre had been beaming after that, overjoyed. Then again, Trowa was glad his little one was so happy. His little one? Where had that come from…

About twenty minutes later, when the lights had been blown out and they were in bed, Quatre had giggled, waking up the almost sleeping Trowa. Trowa had mumbled a half awake protest of 'go to sleep' but Quatre had ust stared up at the ceiling, smiling crazily, letting out so many happy sighs Trowa couldn't sleep longer than a half second. Then the sighs ahd changed from happy to sad, and Trowa finally turned to look at Quatre ito ask about them. He found Quatre staring at him as he turned, insecurity in his eyes.

"Trowa?" he had said as soon as Trowa settled in on his other side, facing him. "Am I a good slave?"

"…!" Trowa had opened his mouth in surprise at the question but nothing came out.

"It's just that, you give me food and clothes and shelter and everything, but I don't do anything for you. I know I…I can't do what a personal slave is supposed to," Quatre said in almost shame. "But I could at least help you or something. Somehow. I'm sure I'm not supposed to just sit and read all day, and go have fun riding."

Emotions almost unrecognized floated up in Trowa. He felt loyalty and compassion and happiness and love…what? "Quatre, you're a personal slave. Personal slaves don't have to work. They're supposed to be companions, that's all."

"But I can't be a companion, I told you," Quatre whined. "And I don't want to stay here, bored all day, while you do whatever it is you do."

Trowa chuckled. "You're very cute when you pout, little one," he said, only to have Quatre glare at him. His glare was twice as cute as his pout. "When I say companions, I don't mean just bed companions. I mean friends. Will you be my friend, little one?"

Quatre shifted for a moment on the bed, ending up a bit closer. He looked up into Trowa's green eyes. "Friends…Trowa, why do you call me little one?"

Trowa blinked. "Do you not want me to call you little one?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Quatre explained. "I love it when you call me that. I just want to know why."

He loved it when he called him little one. Trowa smiled inside, then thought about his end question. Why did he call Quatre little one? "I don't know," Trowa replied softly after a moment. "When I saw you for the first time, small and scared, I thought 'Here is my little one to protect.' I don't know why…"

"I'm your little one?" Quatre asked. "Only yours?"

"Yes. Only mine," Trowa said, wondering why he was talking like this.

"And you'll protect me?"

"Yes. I'll protect you, little one."

"And will you love me?" Quatre dumped the last question on Trowa and hoped he wouldn't sink.

That was why he was talking like this. Love. Wait, love? Trowa blinked. Would he love Quatre? The realization hit him square in the forehead, and, being the always logical one, he listened to what the inner Trowa told him. And now, inner Trowa told him something very simply. He loved Quatre. He had loved him ever since he had seen him. He corrected something he had missed earlier.'Here is my little one to protect and love…'

Trowa couldn't help smiling, not only on the inside, but on the outside too. "Yes."

Quatre had been holding his breath, and when he heard Trowa speak, he began speaking without understanding. "I know it's only been one day since I met you, but I've never met anyone who made me feel this safe before. I know it's silly, but you protected me and you treat me well and you're nice and you haven't hurt me. I know you never would, and I really do trust you, Trowa, which is why I love you, and…what?" Once again, something clicked, and Quatre looked up from fiddling with the blankets, confused.

"I said, yes." Trowa said, still smiling. "But…"

"But?" Quatre froze.

"But, I won't love you…"

"What…?" Quatre was thouroughly confused now. The confusion was accompanied by hurt as well, lots of it as he looked down at the blankets again, thinking hard. A tear dropped down his cheek as he closed his eyes.

"Quatre, stop interrupting," Trowa chided, placing his finger under his chin and lifting his head so Quatre would look at him. "Yes, but I won't love you. I do love you. You asked me if I 'will' love you. I love you now, Quatre."

"Re…really?" Quatre stuttered, and Trowa nodded firmly. Quatre breathed an extreme sigh of relief and buried his head in Trowa's chest. "Thank you, Trowa, thank you." He looked up with a blush rising on his cheeks at the sudden closeness. "Actually, I've never loved anyone before," he said. "But I love you, Trowa."

"That must have taken a lot of bravery for you to say, little one," Trowa said. He wanted to hold Quatre, but he was unsure how the light blonde would react.

"I'm not brave," Quatre said sadly. "I was so scared that you would hate me and then sell me and I would be beat like Duo was. I'm always scared. I was scared when I was captured and scared of everyone except you and Duo and Heero and Milli, uh, Zechs. I'm scared of being a slave, and scared of people. I'm scared…"

"Yes, but even though you were scared, you still said it," Trowa interrupted. "Bravery isn't having no fear. It's being able to overcome your fear, and you did. You are very brave to me, little one."

Quatre was ecstatic that Trowa thought that of him, but he still felt inside that it wasn't true. He was a small, scared boy with twenty nine sisters who had gotten cuddled and coddled by them since he was younger. Twenty nine sisters didn't make him very masculine in any way. The only male figure in his life had been his father, but he had never truly bothered with Quatre. Milliardo had been his only friend.

But Trowa thought he was brave. Surely that meant something. Maybe he should test his bravery. He reached his hand up and tapped Trowa's nose. Trowa looked surprised, then smiled. "I like it when you smile, Trowa."

"I only smile for you, angel," Trowa said. Quatre looked at him for a moment, then wriggled closer until he was resting against Trowa's tall frame. Trowa felt warmed by the close contact, and was glad Quatre wasn't afraid to cuddle. Quatre looked like the most cuddlish person alive.

"Yeah," Quatre mumbled into his warmth.

"You are my angel, little one," Trowa whispered into his soft hair. "Mine."

"You're a good snuggler," Quatre breathed. His breathing slowed, becoming deep and even, showing he was asleep. Trowa began thinking. What was love? Well, he knew that he and Quatre loved each other…he knew he would protect Quatre from anything…and he knew he would love Quatre in whatever way he wanted. Quatre probably wasn't ready to kiss, yet, but at least Trowa could hold him now. Trowa could hold him.

* * *

That is it. Review, constructive critisism is welcome, please don't burn me with the flames... If anyone wants to be on the emailing list /I email you when I update/ just say so in the review or e-mail me.

Storm


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